Tales From The Myst: Dancing with Death, New Update

Thank you! Please do comment. It is appreciated.  I have to admit that I don’t read other people’s stories, and I regret that I can’t be more supportive. I have been recovering from some degree of PTSD from working in healthcare during the pandemic. Because of the brain fog, I just don’t have the ability to keep up with long, serialized stories, either written or on TV. This, from someone who read War and Peace in the 7th grade.

At any rate, playing my game and writing these stories has been my therapy. I hope you enjoy the little peek into my game world they provide.

Just continuing to catch up here.





Of Boats and Ballots

Claude Rene Duplantier Guidry, or just Guidry as his friends and exes usually called him, grimaced as his alarm went off. Floating over to the ancient mantle clock, he silenced the tinkle of the little brass bell and crossed his arms in thought.

He knew he should honor his obligation and attend the meeting with George Albert. He just wasn't sure he wanted to do so. Guidry didn't know why his friend had invited him over, but he had heard rumors. Sometimes, he thought, it's best to not rock the boat. After all, he was an expert. Guidry had rocked enough boats in his life to know you could eventually go down with one.



For years Guidry happily made his living (with living being the operative word) on the willow draped banks of the river that ran through the aptly named Willow Creek. Plying his trade crewing a river boat with a nice little "paranormal investigator" gig on the side, he had managed to live a comfortable, if not necessarily elaborate, lifestyle. He was able to meet his needs and even enjoyed some of life's finer pleasures. And Guidry did love the finer things in life. Art. Good food. The ladies. Especially the ladies.

A shudder rolled through him at the thought of one particular paramour. Yes, some boats were best left un-rocked. The fateful combination of a woman scorned, and an allegedly malfunctioning Murphy bed had embarrassingly proved to be Guidry's final undoing.

And, as fate would have it, there was also a problem with being a "paranormal investigator" in life. It makes you distinctly unpopular with your peers in death. And yet, the affable and ever resourceful Guidry had managed to make even that work for him by guiding paranormal hobbyists interested in making contact with the "other side." All still very satisfying until The Second Purge. Suddenly the hobbyists became serious ghost exterminators and Guidry quickly found himself a target of those he had trained. Realizing his boat was in danger of capsizing, he immediately began applying for relocation to the newly created Myst.

Still deep in thought, Guidry wandered into the bathroom to take a shower. Not that it matters when you're dead, but Guidry found that maintaining some semblance of living helped him to cope with the fact that he wasn't. So, he showered, ate a bowl of cereal he couldn't taste, then headed out to his meeting.

George Albert was one of the first friends Guidry made when he relocated to Mooncrest. In life, he had been a jovial man, running his own fishing business in Brindleton Bay and living a successful life with his lovely wife and two children. Tragically, the whole family was killed in a house fire. They relocated during the purge and were now dwelling on the outskirts of town in the local cemetery. Most relocations to The Myst wound up in Mooncrest, which proved to be a delightfully modern and supernaturally diverse city. There were numerous housing choices for spirits, mostly fixer uppers like Guidry's, so George's decision to drop his family into a stereotypically haunted graveyard baffled his friend. Guidry always suspected the manner of their demise had something to do with it.

"Hey there, Bub!" George called, his Brindleton accent sneaking through as he drifted through the tombstones.

"George! How's the wife?" Guidry politely responded, as they shook hands.

George's eyes shifted to Guidry's almost perpetual flirty pink aura. "Like I'd tell you," he laughed.

“Means nothing!" Guidry exclaimed, as he waved a dismissive hand. Darned aura. You can't hide anything when you're dead.



The two friends exchanged small talk for a few minutes in the autumn chill before retiring to the Albert living quarters located below the cemetery chapel. After politely offering some unnecessary refreshments, George settled down to business.

"So, how do you stand on Spirit Rights, Guidry?"

"Excuse me. What?" Guidry was being deliberately obtuse.

"Spirit Rights. It's a movement."

"Movement? Where? We just got here a few years ago."

"Not where... what. It's advocacy, Guidry. Some of us feel we need better representation in the assembly."

Ah yes. The Mystic Assembly. The institutional apparatus that allowed the citizens of The Myst to represent themselves in a governing body. Delegates from each region are appointed to vote in the assembly with the Council of All Magic presiding over the proceedings.

"Aren't we already represented by the Mooncrest delegates?" Guidry asked.

"Sure. And the Island Spirits are represented by the Sulani delegates. But the needs of the non-corporeal are different from the needs of the living. We need specialized representation."

"For what?"

"Votes, Guidry! Votes! Dead people should have a vote!"

Guidry chuckled. "Eh. They've been doing that in Willow Creek for centuries. So I'm told."

George was becoming exasperated. "I'm not talking about ballot stuffing, here. I'm talking about real votes! Why wasn't The Myst open to spirits from the very start? Why is your house a fixer-upper? Why didn't you get one of those nice, new apartments on Magnolia? You know why? Cause you're dead, and dead don't count."

Guidry's brow furrowed in thought as he munched on the tasteless potato chips. George had a point. Spirit beings were definitely not the top priority in The Myst, any more than they had been a priority anywhere else. It did seem odd in a place that owed its existence to persecution of the unknown. Not that anyone was actively persecuted, here. But still. On arriving at The Myst, Guidry had uncharacteristically accepted his place in the scheme of things and never really thought about the possibility it could be changed. You know. Boats and all.

"So. What are you suggesting?" he asked.

That was all the encouragement George needed. With a flourish he produced a notebook in which were recorded some of his thoughts on how the Spirit Coalition, as he called their "movement," could become a functioning voting block in the assembly. As Guidry poured over the handwritten outline, an unexpected feeling began to rise up inside. For the first time since coming to The Myst, he felt as though his existence could have a purpose other than just pretending to live.



Guidry and George eagerly spent the whole night refining and revising the outline. They took it apart and put it back together. They debated the pros and cons of every concept and parsed phrases for every nuance. Guidry's inspiration grew and even when George's attractive wife returned home with the children, the usually flirtatious ghost remained inspired and undistracted, without even a tinge of pink in his aura. As dawn began to break, the two friends leaned back in their chairs, finally satisfied. The Guidry-Albert proposal was ready to present to the assembly.

"You'll have to select the right time to present it," Guidry said, as he rose to leave and the two began making their way to the surface.

"Me? I'm not presenting it."

Guidry stopped and turned to face his friend. "Who is?"

George chuckled. "Well, Guidry. There's a reason the coalition wanted you on board. Most people like you."

Guidry was stupefied. "Yeah. People like me. Former people, not so much."

George shook his head. "Nope. If there's one thing that Claude Rene Duplantier Guidry has in spades, it's charisma. And we need someone representing us that the living like. Anyone else who holds a grudge over that whole "paranormal investigator" thing will just have to keep holding on to it, because it's not getting any traction here."

Guidry was nonplussed. Helping to draft the proposal was one thing. Putting his name on it was a huge other thing. But to actually be the one to present it to the assembly? Well, that seemed like a boat issue to Guidry.

"And, if I say 'no'?"

George shrugged. "Someone less well liked will present it. People will be less open to it. It'll be a dead issue. Just like us."

Guidry sighed as he glanced around the graveyard. The sunrise was filtering through the trees, the light playing little patterns on the granite tombstone markers of lives gone before. Some of those beings were now aimlessly wandering The Myst. Others had already crossed. Some, like Guidry, were hoping for more from their current existence. From the chapel, he heard the tinkling laughter of George's children at play and realized his friend was right. They did deserve a better place in the world.



Guidry's glance caught George's. With a nod of assent, he held out his hand. As George handed him the notebook, he studied his friend's expression.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Guidry carefully tucked the notebook into his coat, and putting on his most charming smile, dispelled his friend's concern with a jaunty tip of his hat.

"Frankly? A little seasick, my friend. Just a little seasick.”

It's fun to read this from the beginning again. I always love your Morgyn and Guidry. So, is Guidry's cause of death really Murphy bed, or did you add that as creative license?

cyncie I am so glad you chose to share your story here. I have since become aware that several from my circle of Simlit friends have known about it since years ago. Well, you can't be everywhere at once even if I try my best.

The conversation between Morgyn and Guidry is told so vividly that I can feel Morgyn's patiently repressed irritation at being prevented from sleeping. I had to laugh out loud when Guidry blames Morgyn for sleeping too little, citing a tired appearance.😂
One point for your observational ability Guidry! Your self-awareness may not be that impressive.😏

Still just reposting the old stories.

Caution: This is a long, wordy, text only story. My first play through with Morgyn was his personal journey from young spellcaster to Sage of Untamed Magic, to key figure in the creation of the Myst. When my computer died, I started a second chapter game that is the story of the residents of The Myst. That is my current save. When I got Paranormal, the game decided to create a close friendship between Guidry and Morgyn, so I wrote this story to provide a backstory for that friendship. At this point in his life, Morgyn is on the run and has not yet ascended into his full Arcane powers or his near immortality.



Journey

Morgyn stumbled his way through the dense foliage of the swamp lands on the outskirts of Willow Creek. In the distance, he could hear the crashing footsteps of Bragg's Spellcaster Assimilation Unit in pursuit. They called it “assimilation.” Bragg insisted that Spellcasters were rogues with dangerous powers who needed to be retrained to be functioning citizens in the human world. But everyone knew that “assimilation” really meant “elimination.” And, the most powerful of the Spellcasters, the Sages of the Magic Realm, were a particular target. After being lured from the protections of The Realm by a promise of peace, Morgyn and the other Sages soon discovered it was nothing but a trap. The document of reconciliation they were supposed to be signing did not exist, and now they were on the run.

Morgyn had no idea where Simeon and L. were. He hoped they were able to find a refuge. Staying out of The Realm was the only way to maintain the balance of magic, at this point, so it would be a while before they could return. Unfortunately, the rest of the world had proved to be disappointingly hostile.

Morgyn now found himself trying to get to the tree that marked the secret entrance to Sylvan Glade. Musette and the other Faerie-folk had offered him safety there. The entire swamp and most of Willow Creek were under surveillance. Travel for a spellcaster shouldn't be a problem, even through murky swamps, but use of magic was impossible. The SAU had magic detecting, tracing and neutralizing devices, developed through a cooperative betrayal by the Sixams. These devices would pinpoint and track his location if even the smallest spell was used. Even if Morgyn could use magic to quickly get away, the tracers would be able to locate his end point, and he could not risk giving away the secret entrance to Silvan Glade. His only option was to travel on foot.

Morgyn was exhausted, nasty and hungry. By his reckoning, the Mystic Tree was still miles away from his location and there was no sign that the SAU was going to relax their search for him. Morgyn was the Sage of Untamed Magic and an Ancient, at that. He was powerful. He was considered a threat. And, he would not fare well if he fell into their hands.

Morgyn groaned as every muscle in his body screamed for relief. It was growing dark and the voices and lights that pursued him were growing more distant. The search would be halted for a bit while a relief unit came in. The reprieve would not be long, but at least he would be able to get some rest.

Morgyn surveyed the area, looking for a potential resting spot. Spotting a close stand of three cypress trees, he sloshed through the waters, and pushing aside the canopy of Spanish Moss, pulled himself up into a crevice formed by the trunks. With a heavy sign, he fell asleep.

“You know, that's not a bad place to hide for a while. But these swamps are no place to go when you really need a good rest.”

Morgyn jolted awake and found himself staring at pink, smiling apparition. The young man was dressed in a smart but casual style reminiscent of a time gone by, with a boater hat perched jauntily on his head.

“You're a ghost,” Morgyn said, bluntly.

“This is true. And you are a spellcaster.”

“How do you know?”

“Your entourage.”

Morgyn could hear the activity of his hunters ramping up in the distance. “Right. I suppose I'd better start moving, again.”

Morgyn clambered out of his hiding place and with great effort attempted to resume his journey. His feet heavy with fatigue, he tripped on a root and fell face down in the murky mud of the bog. With a groan, he pulled himself up, dripping with mud, and hobbled to a nearby tree stump, where he sat massaging his rapidly swelling knee. He was a bit dismayed to discover that his new acquaintance was still lurking about.

“Where are you headed?” his companion asked.

“That is not your business,” Morgyn grumpily retorted.

“You are correct. It is not. But sometimes it is beneficial to share information to gain assistance. Even for Morgyn Ember.”

Morgyn's head snapped up at the mention of his own name. “You know me?”

His companion shrugged. “Oh, everyone knows you. You are a star... on the news. Not a flattering photo, I must say.”

The Mage's usual confidence had taken its last hit for the day. He buried his head in his hands. “Well, that's it, then. I can't use magic. I'm exhausted. I'm dirty and hungry. I can't walk on this busted knee. And now, the whole world is looking for me. I'll probably just die here in this swamp.”

The spirit laughed. “No, no. The swamp won't kill you.”

“You don't think?”

“No. The gators will.”

Morgyn glared at the still smiling apparition and considered if the consequences for using his powers might actually be worth it right now. Reluctantly, he decided that this ghost with the flirty aura, who apparently wanted to be his assistant in some way, might actually have a point.

“I have friends in Willow Creek,” Morgyn offered. “They can provide safety, but I have to get there, first.”

“Ah. Well, first you have to stay alive. And that is where I come in.”

“Really. What do you suggest?”

The ghostly companion came to hover beside him, flashing a reassuring smile. “I feel as though I've been rude. Allow me to introduce myself. Claude Rene Duplantier Guidry, at your service. And I propose,” he said, gesturing to the stand of trees that had just provided Morgyn's shelter, “a change of accommodations.”

*****

Morgyn stood outside the ramshackle hut, trying to appraise its relative usefulness. Located deep in the swamp, it was definitely well hidden. The question was, how long could it remain standing.

Morgyn and his new associate had made very slow progress but nevertheless managed to travel into the darkest depths of the swamp. Morgyn had to stop for frequent breaks due to his injury, but Guidry kept the SAU moving away from their location through a series of deceptive distractions and redirections. While the SAU were going around in circles, Morgyn and his guide found their way to this isolated spot and this broken down cottage. Morgyn had to admit, the debonair spirit had been a great help.

“Where have you brought me, Mr. Guidry?” Morgyn asked.

“No, no. Just Guidry, please.”

“All right, Guidry. What is this place?”

“Well, it depends on who you ask. Some say it once belonged to a voodoo queen who pronounced a curse on all who enter. Others say it's the home of the swamp monster.”

“Interesting.”

“Still others say it's haunted. I have no idea where that last one comes from,” he said, with a wink. “But, no matter which legend you choose to believe the fact is, no one ever comes here.”

“Do you live here?”

“Absolutely not!” Guidry exclaimed, with mock offense. “It's my summer home.”

Morgyn managed a little laugh.

“Ah, that's better,” Guidry smiled. “Let's get you comfortable.”

As Guidry floated through the wall, Morgyn gingerly pushed open the wooden door that seemed to be hanging from a single hinge and let himself inside.

The hut was dimly lit by the small amount of sunlight that was able to filter through the overhanging vegetation. Morgyn found it surprisingly spacious with a large living area, complete with a dusty sofa and armchair. A fireplace was situated at one end with a kettle suspended across the pit for cooking and crafting. A second room contained a large iron bedstead and a small bath/water closet. From the rafters hung herbs, dried fruit and vegetables. Other dried goods were stored in the loft, which also held a small cot. Even though it had been abandoned years ago, the little hut was definitely a survivor.

“Your sanctuary awaits, Mage Ember. What do you think?”

“Well, I think...” Morgyn broke off as the room began to swim around him. He grabbed the arm of the sofa and swayed, the fatigue and pain finally overtaking him.

“No, no!” he heard Guidry's urgent voice beside him. “Not yet. We must get you cleaned up and fed.”

Morgyn collapsed on the sofa in a cloud of dust as the world sank around him. “Too late,” he muttered.


****

He awoke to the warmth of a fire and the aroma of something incredible cooking over the crackling fireplace. What is that delicious smell? he thought.

“Ah. Gumbo. Family recipe.”

Morgyn confusedly propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze searching for the speaker. When his weary eyes finally focused on his host, they narrowed in suspicion.

“Don't worry,” Guidry laughed. “No Sixam mind probe, here. You were talking in your sleep. Something, something, morphiate... something inferniate. Sounds as if you were working through a few things. So, Mage Morgyn Ember-- bath first--gumbo second. Now go.”

Morgyn wasn't used to being hovered over, either figuratively or literally. But frankly, at the moment, he was grateful for the care and attention. He limped his way to the rustic, primitive bath where a large kettle of hot water awaited him. Pouring it into the tub, he lowered himself in and with the homemade soap, scrubbed away the grime of the last few days. He emerged dressed in a simple shirt and drawstring pants that Guidry had left there. They were a bit dusty, but still a vast improvement over the swamp caked clothing he came in with.

Settling down at the roughhewn table, he devoured two bowls of Guidry's excellent gumbo before finally coming up for air. He leaned back in his chair, a mug of tea in hand, and inquisitively tilted his head as he met the gaze of his host.

“Duplantier? There's a Duplantier Home in Willow Creek.”

“Is there?” Guidry replied, evasively. “I had not noticed.”

“It's a very nice place. You can't miss it. Old and elegant. Abandoned now, I believe.” Morgyn was watching Guidry closely. “You wouldn't have a connection there, would you?”

Guidry shrugged. “I have a connection to many things. I led a rather, um, checkered life.”

“I see. So, what about now? What do you do now, Mr Guidry?” Morgyn asked, with a faint smile.

“Right now? I am entertaining my new friend in the elegance of my summer home.”

Morgyn laughed. It could not be denied that this particular specter had a certain je ne se quois. “Well,” he replied, with sincerity. “Your new friend is definitely grateful.”

“Yes?” Guidry seemed genuinely pleased. “Then I am glad.”

They passed the days pleasantly enough while waiting for Morgyn's knee to heal. Guidry found some books in the loft and supplied Morgyn with a stack of them and Morgyn took over cooking his own meals. Guidry would come and go, keeping an eye on the search efforts and sometimes bringing in things he found or scavenged from the swamp. Morgyn got the distinct impression he was glad for the company and perhaps even happy for something meaningful to do. Guidry even shared his prized possession with Morgyn, a photo album from his formerly physical life.

“So, is this your family?”

“Yes,” Guidry softly replied. “My mother and father. This is all I have of them. I was very young when they...” Guidry broke off. “Well. I'm sure they've crossed over by now.”

As Morgyn carefully turned the pages of the now fragile album, Guidry described each memory. Scenes of places visited, jobs engaged in, friendships shared and loves won and lost. As the story of Guidry's life unfolded, Morgyn felt that maybe he had not only found a guide in his time of need, but had, perhaps, really found a friend.

Morgyn gently closed the cover on the story of Claude Rene Guidry's days among the living and smiled at this new-found friend.

“Thank you for sharing that.”

Guidry shrugged. “It is nothing. I do not get many opportunities, that's all.”

*****
Several weeks into his recovery, Morgyn's knee was improved enough that they were beginning to plan the continuation of the journey to Willow Creek. Late one evening, he was stretched out on the sofa reading a book of poems when Guidry burst into the room, his aura disorganized as he ran through a gamut of emotions.

Morgyn immediately sat up. “What's wrong?”

“Oh. Nothing really. She'll be okay. Eventually.”

“She? She who?”

“Nobody. It's nothing. It's just that my last job didn't go as planned.”

“Job?”

“Yes. I do a little work. Did I not tell you?”

“No. No you did not. What kind of work?”

“Oh. Well, I sometimes assist humans who want to contact the other side.”

“You help humans contacts spirits?”

“Yes. That is it. And sometimes the spirits aren't as, well, helpful as I am.”

“Ah. So, what do you do about that?”

Guidry beamed a smile. Reaching into his pocket he produced a figurine.

“I give the customer one of these to ward off the curses,” he explained, handing it to Morgyn.

Morgyn looked at the faux carved statuette. “What do you call this thing?”

“I tell them it's The Bizarre Idol.”

“You know this has no power,” Morgyn offered.

Guidry burst out in laughter. “Yes! That is what makes it so bizarre!”

Guidry laughed at his own joke as he pulled three more of the figurines from his pocket and spread them out on the table next to the photo album. “They keep them in stock at Pancakes Party Emporium. I buy them by the gross.”

Morgyn shook his head in amused disbelief. “Well, nothing like walking on the edge, I suppose.”

Guidry floated over to sit beside his friend. “Ah, but the important thing is, the customer believes it's real and she believes it's real... so it might as well be real, no?”

“See, there you go again. Who's this 'she' you keep referring to?”

“It does not matter because she believes the idol is real. See?”

Morgyn sighed as he plunked the plastic figurine on the table. “I hope you know what you're doing, my friend.”

“Oh, I do. Let us hope the others don't figure it out, or I will be out of a job.”

****

Morgyn let his eyes roam around the hut, searching for anything he might have missed. After several weeks of peaceful recovery, he was finally well enough to complete his trip to Willow Creek and he and Guidry were in the process of gathering some essentials for the rest of the journey. Guidry reported that the SAU had pulled most of its people out of Willow Creek itself and was now concentrating some of their efforts on suspicious activity in Oasis Springs, although they had not given up their search for Morgyn in the swamps. The travelers debated using a short magic hop out of the swamp, then finishing the rest on foot so as not to give away fairy secrets. But, since Guidry was less certain about the amount of SAU activity in Willow Creek, it was decided to leave on foot in the morning and avoid magic if possible. On Foot, Plan A. Emergency Magic, Plan B.

“I know there's some kind of duffle bag up here,” Guidry muttered, as he rummaged around in the loft. “You will need that.”

Morgyn looked at the things they had collected for the trip. He planned to travel light, but there was still the need for basics. As he mentally checked through his list, a sudden bang just outside the door jolted him from his thoughts.

Morgyn pulled open the dilapidated door and peered into the night. The spirit that floated before him was a lovely lady whose fiery red aura and glowering countenance made it clear that she was not in the mood to be trifled with. In her hand she clutched a “bizarre idol.”

“Ah. Guidry? I think it's for you. One of your customers.”

The apparition snarled at her greeter. “Out of my way, mortal!” she hissed as she pushed into the room.

“Well, all right..." Morgyn commented, a tinge of sarcasm beginning to edge into his voice.

Guidry peered over the railing, his eyes widening a bit at the sight of his visitor. “Temperance!” he exclaimed.

“How inappropriately named,” Morgyn laughed, the sarcasm starting to more deeply mark his comments. The apparition glared at him.

“If I want something from you, I will let you know. Understood?”

Morgyn answered with snort and a smirk, the green flecks in his eyes starting to glimmer dangerously.

Guidry descended to the floor to face his visitor. “How did you find me? I mean, what brings you here?”

Temperance hurled the false idol to the floor in front of Guidry. “This! Did you suppose you could fool me forever?”

“Well. Not 'supposed' so much as... hoped?”

At Guidry's words, Temperance burst into a scream of rage and began whirling around the room in a tornadic frenzy. The sound of a deafening wind filled the air and, in her wake, spawned cursed objects of every kind. Creepy dolls filled the hut, slime creatures emerged through the floorboards, angry spectres filled the air and tendrils of a suffocating ivy began to engulf the walls. As the chaos grew, one could hear the tormented moans of the cursed screaming louder and ever louder.

Temperance spun around in a dizzying whirl of bright red aura, then turned to glare menacingly at the occupants of the room.

“Are you finished yet?” Morgyn dryly asked. He stood with his arms across his chest, green eyes glowing, lips curled in a sardonic smile.

Temperance growled at this impudence. But, as she moved toward this upstart to deal with him as he deserved, her eyes fell on a precious photo album, one she seemed to recognize, lying on the table across the room. She stopped with a slow, sinister smile. Guidry took note of her gaze.

“No, Temperance. Not that...”

“Oh yes, Guidry.” Her voice was low and threatening. “Exactly that.”

Temperance disappeared into nothing, quickly emerging on the other side of the room. She scooped the album up and lofted it into the air. A mighty wind gathered around her, lifting the book from her hands and opening the cover. The fragile pages, the evidence of a life lived, were ripped from the leather bindings and sent flying chaotically through the air.

“No!” Guidry exclaimed as he raced around the room, trying to to recapture each page.

Temperance laughed, mocking the other spirit. “Haven't you learned yet? You don't ever mess with me, Guidry!”

The chaotic frenzy continued to build and intensify as the wails of the cursed and screeches of the damned grew deafening. Temperance's mocking laughter rang in his ears as Guidry grasped frantically at the pages of his book, which continued to whirl out of reach, spiraling farther and farther away. But, just as the chaos was reaching its peak, from the other side of the room an authoritative voice rang out.

“Enough!”

For a moment everything stopped as if every evil in that hut asked who dared to question their supremacy.

“What did you say?” Temperance hissed, as she drew herself up in outrage.

The Mage stood before her, manifesting his power in a visible aura while arcs of light circled around him.

“I said enough,” he repeated coldly but calmly, his brilliant green gaze locked into hers.

Temperance regarded him for a moment, then laughing, raised her clenched fists in the air. The chorus of the damned screamed with delight, their wailing intensifying, feeding on Temperance's mood. She disappeared and reappeared throughout the room, mocking and laughing at the confusion she was causing until she finally appeared a few feet in front of Morgyn.

“Perhaps you, too, need to learn a lesson,” she raged, reaching for him in a threatening way. Morgyn took a step back with one foot and lifted his arms, palms facing forward.

“And what would that be?” His tone was dark, yet controlled

Temperance howled with laughter. 'Ask your friend Guidry.”

She drew herself up and lunged toward Morgyn.

“You don't ever...”

Her words were abruptly cut off as with a wave of his hands, Morgyn released the power he had been channeling. The magic burst forward in a surge of brilliant light and a flash of energy filled the room. The shaft of mystic energy pulsed forward, engulfing Temperance, then exploded into a shower of sparks that filled every corner of the hut. The effects were immediate and powerful. The sudden silence was deafening. Guidry's album dropped to the floor. The wailing of the wind died, the moaning of the cursed faded, and every haunted object began to dissolve into nothingness. Within seconds, the hut was peaceful again.

Morgyn stepped over to examine the now unmoving form of the once raging spirit. “Let me finish that sentence for you,” he said, sardonically. “You don't ever... mess with me.”

Guidry picked the remains of his photo binder and its contents from the floor. Glancing up, he finally chanced a look at Temperance. Her arms were stiffly raised in anger, her blazing rage encased in a sheet of cold, frozen glaze.

“Woah,” Guidry muttered. He gazed into the ice as Temperance's fire red aura flickered deep in its depths. “This is just... art,” he mused.

“Some of my best work,” Morgyn replied, with a smirk.

Guidry turned to face his friend with a new sense of awe. “You do know you just gave away this location, my friend. They'll be on us in minutes.”

“I know,” Morgyn sighed. “So, I guess we're back to Plan B.”


****

Morgyn and Guidry stood under the shelter of a large tree of the type from which Willow Creek derived its name. The full moon was high in the sky, casting a silver glow over this small, wooded area right in the midst of the bustling town. This had been Morgyn's destination, and though Guidry wasn't sure why this particular spot was the end of their journey, he was happy his friend had finally reached it safely. By alternating short hops of magic with foot travel, Morgyn had been able to get here undetected by Bragg's hunters.

“So, how long will Temperance remain... um, how should I say... on ice?” Guidry cautiously asked.

Morgyn shrugged. “Until she thaws, or someone chooses to release her. Why, are you worried?”

“About her? No. About me? Always.”

They laughed and made small talk for a time until the sun finally began to rise. Any parting after such an adventure was bound to be awkward.

“I suppose,” Guidry said, hesitantly, “I should go. Those of my type seem to do better in the dark.”

Morgyn nodded. “You know, I really do appreciate all of your help. I hope I can return the favor one day.”

Guidry smiled. “Yes, well. The popsicle was a good start!”

Morgyn smiled and held out his hand. “Goodbye Guidry. May your afterlife be as adventurous as your life has been.”

Guidry grasped Morgyn's hand and held it tightly. “And farewell to you, Mage Ember. Until we meet again.”

Morgyn watched as the translucent form of his newest friend disappeared into the distance. Turning, he activated the secret entrance to the Sylvan Glade that was hidden inside the tree and stepped through. As the entrance closed behind him and he carefully navigated the familiar path to safety in the Land of the Faerie, he was somehow certain in his mind that he had not seen the last of Claude Rene Duplantier Guidry. And Morgyn thought, that was just fine with him.

Thank you! One of the challenges I made for myself in the first game was to play it with mostly premade characters as the main characters. I think the only original characters I had in that game were the Romas, who were Morgyn's human foster family, Oberon Lazuli, who was basically his guardian, and his Fair folk friends, Musette and Eldon. I have more original characters in The Myst, though, so they will show up in some of these stories. When I play premades, I try to stick close to their original character designs and lore, with some minor tweaking here and there. So, with Guidry and Temperance, I made sure I kept the angry, jilted lover aspect of her character and amped it up a bit to create conflict with Morgyn.